


Small Deaths

by sagechanoafterdark



Series: Codename: Lazarus [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes Feels, Death, F/M, Heavy Angst, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Protective Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:07:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26971891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sagechanoafterdark/pseuds/sagechanoafterdark
Summary: Dying is the easy part. It’s coming back that really fucks you up
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Reader, James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader, Steve Rogers & Reader
Series: Codename: Lazarus [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1968289
Kudos: 38





	Small Deaths

_Jersey City, Pier 15_ **  
**

“So who is death to you,” Tony asked, with a scoff and a wobble of his head as his fingers drummed against the wooden table. “Did you exchange friendship bracelets or is it like an escape from Alcatraz thing?” Despite the attempt at humor when Tony ‘found’ you in the Colorado wilderness it was a serious question to ponder.

You’d wondered the same thing plenty of times, usually late at night when you were alone and the darkness would creep into your mind. Really it was a question of when was the last one going to be?

It wasn’t in Pittsburgh when you’d been strangled outside of a bar by a stranger. 

It wasn’t in some washed up town in New Mexico after you’d tried to leave your strung-out boyfriend and he shot you point-blank. 

It wasn’t a car accident. The train. The bus. The other train. The invasion in New York. The other car accident.

“How many times,” Tony had asked in the kitchen late one night when you couldn’t sleep.

A shrug of the shoulders and you’d waved it off, “I lost count years ago.”

If you didn’t die any of those times before you were pretty damn sure it wasn’t going to be now. Not when you lay on the dirty oil-stained pavement in a New Jersey harbor with Steve Rogers cradling your body and a five-inch tactical knife sticking out of your back.

Death always felt the same. Smelled the same. Tasted the same. 

Movies and television always like to portray it as a cold that swept through you. But that only happens with severe blood loss, like now, and if you lasted long enough for it to happen. Usually, it was the shock that actually kissed you goodnight for that final time. 

Death was when your body was on fire, all the nerves lit up like a Christmas tree before they shut down one by one. Body shaking with both shock and the trickling blood loss. Feeling everything and nothing in one single crescendo as the moment stretched on into a full lifetime. 

God dying sucked.

Steves hands pressed against the wound and around the knife in your back, too afraid to pull it out and have you bleed out faster. He was talking to you. Perfect cupid’s bow mouth and pouty lip trembling as he looked down into your eyes. The cowl removed from his face as he pressed his ear shouting into the comms for assistance. 

You wanted to tell him it was fine, you’d be fine but he’d find that out in a few minutes wouldn’t he. 

Wiggling in Steve’s arms you could feel the knife buried in your back against your still-beating heart. The operative came out of nowhere, thrusting the knife into your back before you could do anything. You’re pretty sure Steve nailed him with the shield but you were too busy bleeding to death to know for sure. The blade punctured your lung and every breath hurt more than the last. Gurgling in and out with staggered gasps.

“You’re going to be okay, Y/N,” his voice assured you, but his damn sad eyes needed work.

Everything felt like it was on fire. “Take it out,” you gurgled, but blood covered your lips leaving Steve to look more panicked. Tears stained your face because it was a natural response to the mass death of your own system. You choked, turning your head to the side as blood poured from your mouth. The coppery taste not missed in the least.

It was starting to slip away. You could almost see the reflection of your pearly white teeth against the red stain of blood reflected in Steve’s eyes. Contrary to belief there was no light at the end of the tunnel. Just the comforting embrace of darkness as it began to steal the sight from your eyes.

You tried to speak but couldn’t. 

Tried to breathe but couldn’t. 

Tried to move.

Dying felt the same as holding your breath underwater did. Calming. Muted. Easy to do. Like you had nothing but all the time in the world to spend in this lull, in the quiet. Until your lungs burned, forcing you to struggle and you burst the surface gasping for air.

There was always shock on whoever’s face was there when you’d come back around. 

Steve was no different. You’d died. He’d watched the last breath leave you as your body went slack in his arms. Gone long enough for him to grimace with a cry of anguish as a few tears to slipped past. But then your eyes popped open and drew a heaving breath in his arms and he nearly dropped you.

A gasping breath sucked into your sore lungs as your heart slammed in your chest. Body replacing the blood you’d lost so fast you felt flush with heat, everything hurt as your body came back to life. It was easier to roll out of Steve’s arms as they’d gone slack, dropping to the dirty pavement onto your forearm grateful to be breathing again. But something was wrong, your lung wouldn’t reinflate. The knife. Reaching backward your fingers brushed the handle, but it was too far. The flesh trying to knit itself back together around the blade. 

“Steve,” you rasped over your shoulder. “The knife.”

Blinking a couple of times and coming to his senses, Steve wrapped one bloody hand around it and pulled. It made a sick slurping sound and ripped through new knitted flesh. Causing you to suck in a hissing breath as your lung healed beginning to reinflate. 

Gagging on the leftover blood that coated your mouth, you spit a couple of times waiting on hands and knees as your body knit itself back together. The wheezing noise vanished after a few lung fulls of crisp wharf air, the wound healing over and your heartbeat returning to normal.

Stumbling to your feet, you stood erect with a heavy shaking sigh; your suit sticky and wet in the cold breeze. Slowly you turned towards Steve, the sound of your boots scraping the concrete loud in your own ears. He looked, in a word, horrified. A queasy tickle in your gut urged you to keep your mouth shut and let him process what had just happened.

Steve was the first person to stick around after you’d died, except for Tony. But whereas Tony looked at you with curiosity Steve’s blue eyes were wide with unshed tears. The tell tail paths visible in the dirt covering his face. He’d actually cried when you died. The soft sentiment tugged at a piece of you and your mouth quirked up in a sad smile before Steve leaped to his feet and pulled you against him.

Nobody had ever reacted like this, especially witnesses. Most either screamed, ran away or tried to kill you again. God damned zombie mania. 

No one had ever hugged you after you came back or acted grateful to see you breathing. Leaning into the embrace and squeezing your eyes shut you held onto him tight as a few stray tears slipped from the corner of your eyes, not even sure why you were crying. Steve pulled away, confusion very evident on his face.

“Wh-what just you were dead,” Steve stuttered, blue eyes frantically searching your own as he gripped your shoulders. Then your face, thumb brushing against your cheek briefly as a relieved smile stretched across his face. “But you’re alive!”

Covering his large hands with your own, a small smile quirked your lips, “I’m inhuman Steve, you knew that. You just know why Tony calls me Lazarus now.”

The edge of Steve’s mouth quirked up with a tiny relieved laugh. A frown marred your face a moment later and you held up one finger to him. “Just a minute,” you mumbled, tearing away and running to the edge of the dock. You dropped to your knees and unceremoniously threw up into the harbor.

Steve didn’t say anything else until you were both on the jet. It was going to be a short flight but your trembling fingers didn’t escape his gaze after you’d thrown up three times leaving a bad taste in your mouth. Flipping switches and set in the coordinates Steve engaged the autopilot.

“Promise me something,” he rumbled, turning to look at you. The control panel lighting his face in eerie green tones, casting shadows and making him look more menacing than usual. “Promise you will never do that in front of Bucky. You can’t ever let him see that Y/N. It… it could break him.”

Swallowing hard you turned away from him for a brief moment, your gaze set in front of you as the lights of the compound came into view. You knew he was right, Bucky could never see that happen. Not after the two of you became as close as you have. “I promise, Steve.”

Once home you snuck upstairs while Steve and Tony managed to distract Bucky long enough for you to get rid of your suit and take a hot shower. Standing at the sink in underwear and a tank top you were just brushing your teeth when a pair of hands wrapped around you from behind. Warm flesh and cool metal sliding easily around your soft tummy and holding you tight. 

The prickle of whiskers brushing against the flesh of your neck as hot breath caressed your ear. “Missed you.”

A muffled laugh left you as you spit into the sink, rinsing away the minty suds and turned a little towards him. “Liar,” you said with a quirk in your lips. “I have it on good authority you did not miss me in the slightest.”

“Whose authority is that?” Bucky half laughed, sliding around and picking up his own toothbrush from the cup. “Of course I missed you. I can’t watch anymore of that movie without you.”

You snorted, swigging a capful of mouthwash before spitting it out in the sink again and rinsing it away. “Oh, so the truth comes out now. Only missing me when it means you can’t watch a movie.”

He laughed around his toothbrush and you slide past him, lightly running a hand over his shoulders as you walked away. His flesh hand shot out, colliding against your ass with a loud smack. You giggled as you went to turn down the covers of the bed.

Just as you finished Bucky emerged and began to queue up the television. “Want to tell me what happened tonight,” he asked off-handed starting up the streaming service and pulling up the movie. The breath caught in your throat but he didn’t notice. “Steve and Tony said you fell into the river.”

A long exhale came out of your mouth and you shook your head crawling under the covers. Steve was terrible at lying when it came to Bucky and had a slew of tells that never went away, even with yours and Nat’s coaxing. “Yeah, I just wanted to wash the smell off of me as fast as possible. Jersey City stinks you know.” The fib came easily and you hated it. 

But he hummed in agreement and took his place next to you under the covers before pressing play. Snuggling down into the soft sheets and cuddling up against his bare chest you sighed, resting your head against his shoulder as his hand fiddled absently with the strap on your tank top.

There was an ache between your thighs you couldn’t ignore now that you were finally back in bed with Bucky. As morbid as it sounded coming back always made you horny as hell and before you knew it, you were rubbing your leg slowly up and down against him under the covers. His heart rate increased slightly but he didn’t take his eyes off the television, you didn’t either and halfway through you’d had enough.

Rolling over you straddled his hips, sitting up and trailing your fingertips over his chest. Bucky’s hands went to your thighs, “Whatcha doin doll?”

“I think you know what I’m doing,” you smirked, rocking your hips against his slightly.

He hummed, fingers tightening slightly but not stopping you. “We’re going to miss the movie.”

An actual laugh escaped you as you grasped the bottom hem of your shirt and pulled it over your head in one smooth motion. “Do I look like I care?”

Rolling laughter poured off of him as you leaned down capturing his mouth in a soft kiss. The lightest of pecks and quickly turning into a heated battle of teeth and tongue. Putting every emotion, every anger, every fear into that kiss and you could taste it as Bucky swallowed your moans. He took all of those things from you and replacing them with only the good. Bucky always managed to kiss you like it was the last time he’d ever do so, maybe that’s why you craved him so much.

His hips jerked up and you slid down, kissing down the flesh of his bare abdomen enjoying the way the muscle contracted. Fingers looping into the waistband of his sweats you mouthed against his cock through the fabric, fingers pulling his pants down agonizingly slow. Before you could get anywhere he was pushing you backward, a giggle escaping you at the smile on his face.

Covering your body with his own, Bucky grasped hold of your underwear tugging them aside, sliding two fingers against your flesh and finding you wet with slick. “Fuck already doll?”

“What can I say,” you shrugged, biting your bottom lip for a moment and turning your head as his lips caressed against your collarbone. “I’ve got a thing for 103-year-old men.”

He snorted, the hot breath caressing against your neck before his lips touched your jaw, “Don’t remind me.”

“You just get so forgetful in your old age,” you gasped when his fingers plucked one of your nipples.

Feeling his lips curve into a smile against your neck Bucky’s hands began to drift everywhere. The cool metal of his vibranium prosthetic raising goosebumps in its wake while he kneaded your flesh with the other. Before you knew it, you were wrestling your underwear off while Bucky slid his sweat pants down around his knees fighting with the elastic on one leg. 

A giggle escaped you as you watched him. Blue eyes met your own just before you tumbled into him, laying him out against the bed and tugging at the pants freeing his trapped leg. “Have I told you lately how much I adore you?”

“No,” he ventured posing up on one arm, brow furrowed for a brief moment. “But please continue.”

“Oh, that’s all I had. I didn’t expect to give you a list.”

It was Bucky’s turn to laugh as he slid your hips over his own brushing your slick heat against his cock and resting against one another with small tremors as your hips rocked his. He held tight to you all of a sudden, stilling your hips as he sat up. “What’s wrong, Y/N?”

The question took you by surprise, tears glistening in your eyes before you could do much other than breath. “N-Nothing, I-I just,” you faltered, eyes downcast for a brief moment. You just what, just died tonight and its hitting you harder than normal? “I just had a hard mission and I need this Buck. I need you.”

Pressing your forehead against his you closed your eyes, swallowing hard before you felt his lips on yours again. Knees straddling his hips on either side you pulled yourself up; his hands guiding your hips. At an almost agonizing pace, you felt him press into you. His hands lowering you slowly until you were seated against his hips.

Setting a slow and gentle pace, the tension in your belly built slowly through heated kisses and soft touches. Fingers careening through sweaty locks of hair and pushing it out of his face. It was soft, it was sweet and it stoked the fire building inside of you with the way he looked up at you. His crystal blue eyes were so clear and full of emotions as he whispered how perfect you were; eyes that held so much emotion you would happily drown in them. Soft lips parted in painting moans when his hand drifted down to your clit and started rubbing his thumb harshly against it.

Head lolling back a long moan burst from your chest, “Fucking hell Bucky.”

“You going to cum for me, doll?”

Nodding you bit your lip hard, and he shifted you down onto the mattress, his hips pumping into you, harder and faster. A long needy whine started in your chest, “Bucky please.”

“Fuck you feel so good,” he grunted against your shoulder, laying kisses against your overheated flesh. Bucky fucked himself into you, his hand holding your thigh in a bruising grip as the wet sloppy sounds of his cock sliding in and out of you echoed in your ears. He moaned your name over and over again. “I-I lo-”

“Bucky!” You shrieked arching against him as the coil snapped, your core tightening down against his cock. Bucky came with a stunted grunt, pumping his hips into you fucking you through his own release before stilling. Breathing a long sigh as he nuzzled against your ear.

The two of you laid together, Bucky not crushing you but also not getting off of you. The high of your orgasm didn’t fade away, leaving you still needy. Lips grazing against his skin you smiled feeling his cock stir against your thigh. “Again,” you whispered against his shoulder. Laying kisses over the joint where flesh and metal met.

A shiver wound it’s way through him, his head lifting to look at you, “Again?”

You hummed, gazing into his eyes with that pleading look you knew he couldn’t ever say no to. Hands cupping against his cheek as blue eyes searched your own. “This time, don’t hold back.”

Eyebrows shooting high before a devious smile spread across his lips, creating the dimpled laugh lines you loved. Rolling you over Bucky took both of your wrists into his hand. Pulling your hips against his own again he thrust back into you with a growl. “You’re perfect Y/N.”

Leaning up you kissed him hard, biting his lower lip and pulling away as a groan escaped him. “Make me feel it, Sargent.”

A few hours later you listened to Bucky’s even breathing as you laid watching him sleep. He looked younger when he slept, the downturn of his mouth vanished and the worry lines disappeared. It was hard to believe that less than a year ago you’d been strangers and now, you couldn’t imagine your life without him in it. Your hand absently shifted a lock of hair from his face and you smiled.

Sitting up you shifted off the bed slowly to not wake him turning one last time to check him you quietly pulled out the soft leather-bound journal from your bedside table. It was held together with a rubber band at this point, pieces of paper sticking out of it along with a few articles and news clippings here and there. Opening it the pencil was wedged inside waiting for you.

_“May XX, 20XX - Injury resulting in death  
_ _Mision with Steve Rogers for Avengers Initiative in Jersey City. Caught off guard by opposing operative and stabbed in the back.  
_ _Bled out time: unknown.  
_ _COD: Shock from blood loss 5 minutes.  
_ _Witness: Steve Rogers.  
_ _Death count: 185.”_

Who is death to you? 

Blinking back tears you looked over at the bed where Bucky slept. The truth was you’d never met death and now you were pretty sure you never wanted to.


End file.
